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(Poems) – townrot – 95 words
it’s been a year since I’ve left my hometown / or a century / the parts of me I left behind belong to someone else / and they’ve rotted by now / when I rot I do not die / I just grow thorns / I hope I’ve rotted around the throats of those who’ve…
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He Who Held the Sun – 851 words
When the clouds blotted out the sun, and the ground turned black with death, the Sunholder began to build his tower. Rotting wind and doubt buffeted him day and night, but it didn’t stop him from rising the next day to continue his work by candlelight. Those few who still breathed on the earth saw…
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(Poems) five for ten – 97 words
Go down to the corner store and buy me there / five glasses for ten / drink from me everyday / forget about me in the back of your cupboard / or drink from me once and smash me against the concrete / stomp the pieces into shards and the shards to dust/ rub what’s…
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(Poems) – achilles – 54 words
The back of my heel is bleeding. But it’s not my weakness, or my downfall. I can’t find one part of myself that’s indestructible or strong or remarkable A Greek hero that’s all heel, with no great acts to do, with no story to be told. There’s no fatal flaw here other than me.
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around the halloween tree
Malcolm gave up on the party as soon as he arrived. One look at the crowds— a menagerie of drunk witches, monsters, superheroes, and American presidents— and he was ready to leave. But his friends had had the opposite reaction. They disappeared into the mob, leaving him stranded and mercilessly titled as the designated driver. …
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(Poems) – newleaf – 106 words
Why do I enjoy this? The dry crackle of dead leaves beneath my feet, the cold that drives me behind walls of cotton and wool. xx Why does being surrounded by death feel so hopeful? I know my deepest rot isn’t dying, my own cruel poisons. This is just my heart flipped outward, myself— a…
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smilehunter
I go out into the noir sunrise, feeling the knife’s edge between summer and fall. The pavement leeches my warmth when it can’t find any in the sun. Something has gone cold and we can all feel it, even when we’re sweating. I hunt for my joy, the kind that sprints at the sight of…
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a twisted thing – 536 words
You flee to the closet. You know the boxcutter is barely a weapon, but it’s all you have, so you hold it like a shield. Light peeks through the slits in the sliding door. It gives you the faintest view of the bedroom beyond. The beast approaches. Its dragging, heavy gait reaches your ears like…
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(Poems) – colorstain – 84 words
Today I am gray— a storm without thunder— which is better than a drowned, faded blue, but I would not press to call it a full color. x I yearn to be something more. A hopeful, blinding azure, a sunlight gold— so warm you can feel it on your skin. Maybe a violet— wealthy with…
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(Poems) – horror – 100 words
There is, of course, no reason to be afraid. There is no asteroid hurtling toward Earth, no supervolcano about to erupt under Yellowstone, and no man in the corner of your room, just out of sight. He isn’t watching you, a bloody gleam in his eyes. He isn’t sharp— with knives and claws and intent.…
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(Poems) – rainshower – 90 words
When it rains, do you really feel it? Do you feel it rinsing your skin, washing away the blood and sweat? Do you feel it soothing your muscles, releasing the tension? Do you feel it bleach your bones, wiping away your impurities? Do you feel it fill your lungs, your first fresh breath in weeks?…
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baby shoes, never worn
Author’s Note: Now that I’m actually going for the English creative writing major, I have some assignments I can start sharing! So here’s the first flash fiction on the site, as well. Let’s see if you can figure out what the prompt was! To the New York City Chief of Police James Buchanan, This is…
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(Poems) – how to survive – 101 words
Author’s Note: Song is mostly unrelated, it’s just the kind of bitterness that this poem reminds me of. Start by finding your passion, what you want to do, and bury it six feet deep. Take a knife and split yourself open, find every soft and honest part of you, and cut it out, replace it…
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A Guide to My Writing (Extremely Outdated)
This guide is designed to create an easy way to find something to read on the site. Summarizing genre, content warnings, and blurbs, reading through this post will give you a good idea of what interests you while letting you avoid things that don’t.
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(Poems) – ghosts – 132 words
Most ghosts I know are still breathing. I see them in the things I want to tell them, the time we could’ve had. They’re a shadow on my threshold, whispers in my ear. A simple fact of life, but it feels like being hollowed out. They don’t have to die for me to mourn. x…
Sidorenko's Writing
A Library in Progress
Sidorenko's Writing 